


Dispassion

by indigold



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Modern Retelling, Organized Crime, Polyamory, Reader-Insert, there are definitely going to be more tags here as I write more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigold/pseuds/indigold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lies breed distrust. distrust begets unrest. unrest uncovers the truth, when the blood has finally dried.</p><p>[ rating up for not very graphic, interrupted sex. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> And now we interrupt your crazy yaoi AUs with something more than a little different.
> 
>  (not that there won't be a yaoi pairing in here eventually huehuehue)
> 
> Wow, it's been years since I wrote fanfiction. I've been roleplaying too long, I guess. This idea has been in my head since September and the same night I thought it up I wrote a blurb to go in the ending. AND IT STAYED IN MY HEAD SINCE. 
> 
> Anyway, guys, this is just a prologue! Think of it as a pilot, more like. Enjoy <3

 

 

As you lean against the side of the towncar- never the wall, Jesus, you spend way too much money on your clothes to do that- you vainly hope Tyki doesn’t draw this out longer than necessary. He always does that, makes everything into a game. It’s one thing in bed (not that you’re complaining), but when he's messing with a guy til he breaks apart into a sobbing, childish mess…

It’s the one thing about Tyki that you don’t enjoy, despite his many other talents.

"You know why we dragged you all the way out here, don’t you, Mr. Yeager…?" Tyki purrs, dusting off his cuffs and tugging at them a little. You can’t help but smirk a little proudly; it’s one of the silk shirts you picked out for him in Beijing. The aging man scrabbles at the bricks to stand, but Tyki is quick to bring an Italian-shoed foot to his gut.

"I don’t even know who you are!" The poor guy looks at you now, and you get that sinking feeling you get when you know you have to disappoint people. It’s relatively minor this time, thankfully. "How do you know this guy? He’s too dangerous for a girl like you!"

That’s when you roll your eyes, and that empathetic feeling wears away immediately. The dumb sod doesn’t even know your name, so trying to play that card _really_ doesn’t work. To prove your point, you push off from the Lincoln and come to join the two.

"You don’t think _I’m_ dangerous? Oh, Kevin. I’m insulted," you croon sadly. You lean up to press a kiss to Tyki’s cheek, a little pleased by how his eyes don’t leave his mark. The sight must be terrifying from the vantage point of the floor of a filthy alley, out in the no man’s land between the city and the suburbs. You step forward, balancing expertly on your Loubitins to crouch in front of him.

"Let me jog your memory, honey," you murmur, bringing your hand up to cup his jaw, digging your nails into his cheek sharply and earning yourself a satisfactory whimper.

"Remember last month? When you needed thirty k?" you ask as you turn his face this way and that with your thumb, unable to contain your grin when his eyes widen in realization.

"N-No! Please, the bank was going to foreclose—" you release Yeager’s face with a shove and step out of the way, letting Tyki have the room to kick him again, and you watch him ready his gun.

"Ah, the misfortune of the national economy. The chronic ailment of our country, don’t you think?" Tyki asks with a nearly mirthful tone. You merely grin in response.

"Plague of the lower classes and those without connections, for sure. Remember not to kill him, babe. He’s not in dire straits yet."

"I know, I know. Now then, Mr. Yeager, I hope whatever dead-end job you’re trapped in doesn’t require your legs."


	2. Three Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst news comes at the end of a lull, after you have been at your least diligent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. So I got a really kind comment that said I should keep going, so that's what I'm doing. I just, wow. /dies
> 
> aaaaaaaaalso the reader character's name is revealed in this chapter. it may or may not tie in to an oc of mine that has not seen the light of the internet in three or four years. only judy can judge me, haters to the right.

"Your hair's getting long. Er."

You glance over your shoulder at the bedroom door and smirk back at Neah, clad in the now-messy button-up he was wearing last night.

"You're staying in this apartment long. Er." You turn back to the breakfast you're cooking, listening to his soft feet pad across the tile floor as he seemingly ignores your remark. You don't even twitch when you feel his hands in your hair, combing his fingers through it idly.

"Really, though, I like it." He wraps a modest-sized lock around the palm of his hand and gives a playful tug, causing you to wince. Your scalp is still sore, it would seem. That asshole.

"Yes, because it's _such_ a joy to have more of it for you to pull on," you drawl with a tight, thin tone, giving him a patronising smile. You manage to get Neah to let go of your hair so you can get plates, sliding two eggs onto each plate. As his hand goes to your lower back, he regards his plate warily. You can't blame him, to be honest. You didn't really know how to cook before you met him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's no foie gras. At least I remembered to put the butter in the pan before I cracked the eggs."

"Aww, I'm so proud of you, baby."

"Whatever— quit playing grabass and eat your eggs! I slaved over a hot stove for you, the least you could do is taste my work," you snap at him, swatting at the wandering hand with your spatula. He just snickers with a last stolen squeeze and takes a fork from a drawer. He gives you a glance, suspicious but only teasingly so.

"You're not about to poison me, are you?" You roll your eyes and shake your head. He just smiles and cuts himself a bite of egg. You're not exactly waiting with bated breath, but watching him eat is always a little more tense for you when you're the one doing the cooking.

"You cooked them too long, but they're not burned." You sigh. "And you actually seasoned them? Mmm. You've been reading that book, haven't you?" You merely shrug in response.

"Anything's better than the time I used Mrs. Dash. God, that was disgusting." Neah nods in mournful agreement. You finally start eating, bumping hips with him softly as you lean against the kitchen counter, and making a face when you realize just how overcooked the yolk is.

As the two of you finish your breakfast, Neah's train of thought seems pretty unaltered. He turns along the edge of the counter to cage you in, setting his plate behind you and trapping you between two tan, wiry arms.

"Well then."

"Well then."

"What are your plans today? I don't think Adam really needs any of us for anything... _pressing_." You yawn and stretch your arms, letting your hands slip down along his neck to rest on his chest.

"Well... have to go make a pickup with Lulu later. Dress code is supposed to be classy and _feminine_ , but you know her." He chuckles, hands starting to stroke up and down your sides.

"And Tyki?"

You roll your eyes as a thumb smoothes its way up one of your breasts. "You should- _ah_ -" you gasp as the thumb finds your nipple- "—you should know, you bought the ticket to Macau..."

"When is he back again? I forgot." A sigh escapes your lips as his knee presses between your thighs.

"Tuesday, and no you didn'– mmmn," you murmur, cut off when he presses a kiss to your lips. Your hands go to work then, undoing buttons and sliding something white and wrinkly down over his shoulders while your hips grind on his hungrily.

He's about to slide into home when his computer in the other room makes a very loud, urgent noise. It's from the direct email address for the boss. You know because Neah's always had that alert tone for the Earl's messages.

Neah groans and pulls away reluctantly, making his way into the little office off the open kitchen/living room to go see what the big guy wants. You go to find your clothes from the night before, only to be interrupted by his voice from across the flat.

"Aurora?" You look up, padding back through to the office to see Neah roll away a little in his desk chair to give you room. "Look." You come closer, kneeling on the carpet to look up at the screen.

"I guess I'll be moving apartments now."

**———————————————**   
**09:47AM**   
**To: All <list:family>**

**Wrath is down**

**Meeting @ 11:00**

**Ark Corporate 5312**

**\- Adam <3**   
**———————————————**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, please review <3 to quote Terminalia by Vee, "there are two kinds of men who are eager to talk about their work: insecure, and decent", and i am definitely the former. talk to me pls. ; 3 ;

**Author's Note:**

> please review, guys, I need to know this is something the AO3 crowd wants. I'm completely solid in my idea of where this plot is going to go and how it'll end, but this whole premise and the way I'm writing it out is so far out there from anything I've read in this fandom. I need to know you guys want more of this.


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